Title: A Measure of Happiness
Author: Valerie
Disclaimer: All characters owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. I own nothing.
Summary: More post-Giftage. This is essentially a B/S romance (with sex, of course), but also will eventually deal with grander themes of good and evil. Maybe.
Rating: R for adult concepts, language and semi-descriptive sex.
Spoilers: Through the end of Season 5
Feedback: Yes please!
Distribution: Sure.
Chapter 9: The Return
She walked up to the door of the crypt, not sure whether the thing eating away at the bottom of her stomach was dread or excitement. After spending the last two weeks in London alternately berating herself for what she had allowed to happen, and madly daydreaming about it, she was a mass of confusion now. At the time she had been glad to escape the country before seeing Spike in the light of day (so to speak), but now it just made things more awkward. How was she supposed to act? How was he going to greet her, like his girlfriend or something? She shuddered to think of it.
I can't do it, she thought. She turned around and started to walk away. Then stopped. Then turned again, and before she could talk herself out of it, she quickly walked up to the door and slammed it open, walking in with her head high.
He was sitting on the stone sarcophagus that she had more than once caught him doing his nails on, reading a book. Spike, reading? It reminded her of visiting Angel at the mansion three years ago; he often read during the day. But she quickly dropped that train of thought; comparing Spike with Angel was just too weird.
She watched him look up and see her, and a look of joy suffused his face. He dropped the book and leapt off the stone slab. Then he hesitated, and the joyous expression was replaced by one more guarded and nervous. He isn't sure what to do either, she thought. It made her feel a bit more confident, but only a bit.
"Hey," she said.
"The Slayer returns from the council, triumphant, eh? At least, I assume triumphant? You don't look any worse for the wear." He looked her up and down appraisingly, with just a hint of possessiveness in his gaze as his eyes raked over her. She blushed.
"Well, I suppose it's triumphant. After much poking and prodding and tests and questions, they decided I'm not evil, so, uh, I've got that going for me," she said, trying to affect a Bill-Murray-in-Caddyshack accent on the last part but failing.
"What about the whole reason for your resurrection? Did the all-knowing council let you in on why you got a return ticket to our lovely little plane of existence?"
She hesitated. This was why she came, after all, to tell him about the prophecy which likely involved both of them. She was here on business, she reminded herself. "Kind of. I mean, in as vague a way as possible. They basically said the Powers sent me back to continue the fight, greater battles ahead, yadda yadda yadda."
"That's it?" he queried incredulously.
"Not exactly, although that is pretty much it on the resurrection. To be honest, I don't think they understand much more of the why's and how's of my being here, not the specifics anyway. They asked me a lot of questions about the last battle with Glory, and what made me do what I did, and why I thought it would work. Then they wanted to know if I remembered anything from, you know, being dead." She smirked. "I told them if I had, I would have gone on Oprah first." Spike chuckled at that.
"Anyway, like I said, they did a lot of tests, not just to measure my evil quotient, but also to see if I was still Slayer power girl. They pretty much came to the same conclusion we did: that the abilities are still there but much of the training is lost." She sighed.
"Did you tell them about your new training partner?" Again, he didn't say it in a lewd way, exactly, but his voice carried just the slightest hint of innuendo. Buffy took a deep breath. She better tell him now.
"Actually, they asked me more questions about you than anything else. About the chip, about your behavior, how you helped with Glory, what exactly you did, how you took my death…" She smiled a small, sad smile, "which of course I could only tell them about second hand. How you behaved toward Dawn and the Scoobies after I was dead. How you acted when I returned. And when I told them about the training and the help with patrols, they were extremely interested. What exactly we were doing, what sort of training, all that."
"Guess they didn't approve, huh?"
"That was the weird part, they were more, like, curious and excited. One of them practically fidgeted himself right off his seat."
"Any idea why?"
"Not at the time, but then I talked to Giles about it later. They had asked him a lot of the same questions, and were pretty much equally non-forthcoming. But he knows stuff from before, when the council still trusted him and kept him in the loop." She paused. "Apparently, there's a prophesy."
"Oh, that's just bleedin' wonderful. A prophesy always gets the watcher's knickers in a twist. What's this one, then?"
"That's just it, I don't really know. But they think it's about me, and, and you."
"Me, in a prophesy? What am I, bloody Angel or something?"
She winced. "Actually, I guess that's who they thought it was about, originally. From what Giles remembers, and he never saw it in the original language, it involved something about a Slayer dying and being reborn, and a vampire fighting at her side. I guess a few years ago some of the watchers believed it referred to me being drowned by the Master, and to Angel. But too many things didn't fit. Like did being revived by plain old CPR count as being 'reborn,' and, um, I guess some of the things about the vampire didn't fit Angel, but I don't know what exactly."
"Probably described the vamp as a manly stud or something, and…" Her glare stopped him. "Sorry," he grinned. "Do continue."
"Anyway, most of the watchers didn't buy that it was about me. But now that I've been seriously reborn, they are reevaluating with the new evidence. Which has them extra curious about the new vamp in my life." New vamp in my life? Did I just say that? Shit! She cringed. "What I mean is, um, you know, you're the vampire that's around and, um, helping me," she finished lamely.
He grinned a little at her discomfort. "So what does the prophesy say? Are we two together going to save the world for puppies and little babies and all?"
"I don't know! They of course won't tell me. Or Giles. I assume it has something to do with these greater battles that I'm supposed to be back to fight… Anyway, I thought you should know, since it involves you." She glanced around nervously, unwilling to meet his eyes. Now that Spike was debriefed on the prophesy, she began to feel extremely aware of being alone with him for the first time since he had been in her bed.
After a long, agonizing moment, she finally asked, "So, what were you reading?"
He sighed with exasperation. "Dammit, Slayer, how long are you going to pretend like it didn't happen? Cause I'm not sure how much of this I can take." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a slightly unsteady hand, leaning against the sarcophagus again.
"I'm not pretending it didn't happen! I just, well, don't really know what to say about it."
"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something. It was a horrible mistake, worst of my life, something along those lines." He smirked at her, but his eyes were sad.
"Is that how you think I feel?"
"Isn't it?"
"Geez, Spike, I've never known low self-esteem to be your problem." She softened. "But I don't. Think that." He didn't respond, so she kept talking nervously to fill the space. She started pacing this time, but kept her distance. "I mean, as wise decisions go, sleeping with you doesn't really rank up there, but – but I can't exactly regret it either." She turned to him and smiled. "Besides, those watchers can go on and on listening to themselves talk and it gave me plenty to daydream about while I pretended to be listening too." She felt her cheeks color, and was surprised at herself for that little admission.
He grinned, the joy from when she first walked in coming back into his eyes a little. He stubbed the cigarette and walked over to her. She was acutely aware of how close he stood to her, and when he touched her face, she felt herself shiver. "It's pretty much all I've thought about every waking moment of the last two weeks, " he confessed. They stood that way a moment, then he leaned almost imperceptibly toward her. She longed to kiss him, but at the same time the fear came back full force. She backed away.
"I – I should really go." The disappointment was clear on his face, but he didn't press it. She turned and walked slowly to the door. This was for the best, really. Letting him kiss her again would be a really, really bad idea. Much badness lay there. Kissing would lead to touching, and touching to… Images of what it would lead to washed over her. "Screw it, " she muttered, and whirling around, ran back to him. Their lips and bodies met in a rush, and they were kissing hungrily before she even realized she'd made a decision. She felt one of his hands entwine in her hair while the other pressed against the small of her back. His mouth pressed so hard against hers that it was almost painful. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled back from the kiss a little, running her tongue along his bottom lip seductively. He moaned and began placing a trail of kisses down her neck, causing her to gasp with pleasure. Suddenly he lifted her at the waist and put her on the stone sarcophagus, then pressed himself between her legs and went back to exploring her mouth with his tongue. She was drowning in him again, the desire making her dizzy. She hooked her ankles around his legs and felt his erection pressing against her. She could hardly bear it, she wanted him so badly – but a thought actually managed to insinuate itself into her consciousness.
She broke the kiss. "Someone might come in," she said breathlessly.
"No one bursts in here without knocking except you and a few demons who probably won't be out and about in broad daylight." His hand had worked its way under her blouse, and he was touching her in ways that made it distinctly difficult to hold her thought. She persevered.
"What about Dawn?"
She had him there. He reluctantly disentwined himself from her, a look of naked longing in his eyes. "Fine, I'll be good." Then he smiled seductively. "So what are your plans for tonight, my lady?"
"Actually, we were all going to do the Bronze thing, a little celebration for my triumphant return." She hesitated. "Do you want to come? With me?"
"I did, but you made us stop," he said, his innuendo becoming less subtle. She punched him playfully. He sobered. "Slayer, are you asking me on a date?"
She blushed for what seemed like the millionth time. "Well, I'm not exactly ready to share with the class, so no groping me in front of everyone… but I suppose it could have date-like qualities." She hopped down from the stone slab and headed for the door. "We'll be there around eight."
"Eight it is then," he replied. Buffy walked quickly out into the sunlight, unaware of the idiotic grin that grew on the face of the vampire behind her.